


Sold

by 1lostone



Series: Lost's Rickyl Bingo Prompt Fills! [6]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Actually a weird amount of knitting., All the kinky sex tags I usually use but am too lazy to tag right now, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Alternative Universe - Brothel, Alternative Universe- Auction, Birthday Fic!!!!!!!!!, Dildos, Knitting, Knotting Dildos, Lost attempts to be funny again, M/M, Non-zombie au, Okay while tagging this I saw that knotting dildos was a tag and I literally have to use it or die, Porn with Feeeeeeeeeelings, RWG Bingo, Rough Sex, Sexual knitting? idk, When I love you I write your porn, i blame jlm for everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2020-05-02 09:44:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19196365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/pseuds/1lostone
Summary: Rick does really stupid shit when he's bored... like agree to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TWDObsessive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/gifts), [MaroonCamaro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaroonCamaro/gifts).



> Prompts: Rough Sex, Knitting, (haha. that was a typo Tweedo made but I'm putting it in here and you can't stop me nyeah nyeah) Knotting, Brothel, Fantasy, Dildos/toys
> 
> Sooooo with a bit of a real life clusterfuck, I managed to miss both MaroonCamaro and TWDObsessive’s birthdays. This is my most humblest of apologies. Thank you to Jlm121, Bennyhatter, Katytheinspiredworkaholic, Lotr58, and Jerome Sankara for the ideas. I managed to fill a few more squares on my Bingo card! Just because I love you, notice that I actually wrote a non!Zombie AU. As a wip. Because I am an asshole. :D

Rick was nervous.

He didn’t often get nervous. As a small town sheriff, he was a pretty forthright guy. Days were like every other day. Kings County was sleepy township normally. That was part of the problem.

He had been fucking bored. The last time he was bored, he ended up married in Vegas (and divorced, thank _fuck,_ two hours later). The time before that he’d gone skydiving. The time before _that_ he had joined a commune in Bora Bora and smoked a truly unhealthy amount of weed while knitting some really eco-friendly hemp blankets.

Point was- Rick didn’t do so hot when he was bored.

But now, standing on the stage, practically naked, blindfolded and with a really awkward itch on the back of his left knee, Rick really started to think he might need some sort of intervention.

On the surface, he was just a normal guy. He didn’t own anything except his truck. Lori had the house and they shared custody of Carl- which the divorce had been friendly enough given that for a good year or two they hadn’t been so great with hiding how much apathy they’d had for one another. And sure, selling their home and then up and marrying Shane and moving to Montana had been a bit of a surprise. But they were all still friendly, and since Carl’s new school was year round, it was simple enough for Carl to spend some of his breaks with his dad, back in Georgia. The problem was, Carl was 17 now, and he had friends, and a life. . . and well, he didn’t mean to hurt his dad’s feelings, and Rick would never ever stand in his son’s way, but sometimes the time he was allowed was cut short with Carl’s own life, and the things he wanted to do.

Still, deciding that _this_ would be a good way to alleviate the boredom was a shitty, shitty idea.

It was all Carol’s fault.

And the internet’s.

But mostly. . . Carol.

He’d met Carol by accident. Literally. She was mouthy, she was fiercely independent, and she was pretty much the best emergency service response operator he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. While the good people of King’s County didn’t have a _lot_ of 911 calls, when they did, Carol was completely calm. She would set aside her knitting and go into ‘Competent Carol’ mode. Her voice soothed the scared, sick, or hurt. She and Rick had met after Mr. Blake had had an unfortunate accident involving a shrimp fork, a case of Natty light, and a back-to-back marathon of _The Bachelorette_. It hadn’t turned out so well for Blake- the eyepatch was mysterious and all, but it turned him against reality tv for life. Still, Rick had needed to meet with Carol regarding a few questions for his case file, and the rest as they say was history.

(Actually. Rick didn’t know who _actually_ said that. Whoever they were hadn’t met Carol Peletier.)

When she and Rick were off duty through- ugh. She was the literal worst. If she wasn’t trying to fix Rick up with the EMTs out in emergency services (Rick wasn’t sure if Carol thought he’d hook up with Glenn or with Maggie,  but he was pretty sure that the two of them together would put his decrepit ass in traction.), or invite him out with her and Michonne to be the world’s most awkward third wheel, she kept going on about the quiet man that worked nights with her at Emergency Operations. Daryl. . . something.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen!”

Rick was jarred out of his reverie by the sound of feedback from a microphone. He swallowed hard, unable to see anything behind the blindfold. His heartrate started to thump low in his chest. He could tell that there were people in the room, and that the room wasn’t all that big. He could also tell that he was higher up than the people sitting- or standing- below him, but that was about it.

He knew from the prep that there were four of them.  The “prep” had been a bit traumatic, to tell the truth. He’d spoken to a lawyer about what to expect. Rick had preferred to keep things anonymous. . . he wasn’t famous or anything but the blindfold made sure he wouldn’t meet whoever was about to buy him at the local Piggly Wiggly. . . or, rather, if he did, neither of them would ever know. He’d signed the papers, and was going into this with full on, 100%, absolutely-fucking- on board consent. He’d been oiled in places Rick didn’t generally keep a lot of oil, shaved so nicely that his pubes could have won an award for the nicest cleanup ever, had his insides cleaned so thoroughly that Rick was pretty sure he’d be side-eyeing his garden hose for a good year after this, and dressed in an itty bitty pair of gold mesh booty shorts that left nothing to the imagination.

In short, if Carol ever saw him, he’d have to join witness protection.

The lights were bright enough that his oiled skin felt a little wet. Rick wondered if he was shiny. Something about being barefoot made him feel strangely vulnerable, which was a bit unexpected, and hence, Rick’s aforementioned nervousness.

No, when Rick Grimes got bored, he did stupid shit. But this? This was beyond stupid. It was reckless. Exciting. Nerve-racking.

The feedback whined again and Rick swallowed hard enough that his dry throat clicked.

“If you could all please take your seats.... the auction is about to begin.”

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for slight humiliation kink. What. It was a surprise to me too.

_ “If you could all please take your seats.... the auction is about to begin.”  _

Rick couldn’t help it. Nervous or not, the low drawl into the microphone made him straighten his shoulders just the last tiny bit. He wasn’t ashamed. His stomach might have been jumping around like crazy, but he wasn’t  _ afraid. _

He wanted this. 

“Well I’ll be dipped in shit. Lookit these fine specimens here, all oiled up and ready for a nice, deep, dicking.”  

The man’s voice sounded completely different from before the prep. Rick had met him briefly, once his lawyer had made sure he wasn’t doing anything  _ too _ nefarious. His name was Negan, and he was. . . interesting. Tall, thin, and sporting a red scarf around his neck and a black leather jacket, he had met with Rick in his office to make sure Rick was on board with exactly what to expect. His office was comfortable, although weirdly enough Negan had a baseball bat behind protective glass on the wall behind his desk. Rick had listed everything that he was willing to participate in, and Negan had assured him that any potential buyers would be heavily vetted to ensure Rick’s safety. 

Negan was articulate and helpful, if a bit soft spoken. However, Rick wasn’t exactly a slouch at judging people, and he believed every word Negan said. 

On stage, he was something else entirely. 

“Gentlemen, we have quite a delectable treat for you. I’ve brought all four of our hopefuls out on stage for our quick parlay. You can see; we have three men and a woman. Each one has a starting bid, and that bid is dependent on--” Negan paused, and Rick could hear the smirk in his voice-- “how fucking depraved they are.” 

There was a stirring in the crowd. Rick wanted to peek through his blindfold, wanted to see the people that wanted to pay money to fuck him. 

Negan had told Rick that he would at one point touch him on the shoulder, and he’d give him a few orders once on stage, but when the hand brushed against his shoulder, Rick couldn’t help but jump.  

“Steady,” Negan’s low voice muttered.  “Turn,” he said more loudly, into the microphone. “Look. At. This.” Negan whistled.  Rick knew this was all bullshit, but goddamn did it make him feel good. 

“We got here a man whose been working his whole life. Maybe he’s the sexy librarian that checks you out one too many times. Maybe it’s the man who installed your cabinets, or hung your drywall. Maybe he taught you English. Maybe you see him every night at eleven and at five when you check your local news. Hell, maybe he’s the man that keeps you safe when the bad guys come.”  Rick could feel the heat of Negan’s hand as it hovered near his skin, but Negan didn’t actually touch him. Like most everything else, Negan was putting on a show. “And now, he can be yours.” 

Rick wasn’t a stripper or anything, but he knew his ass had to look good. The booty shorts were absolutely ridiculous, but putting them on made him feel--- Well, okay. He felt like a cast extra in the Rocky Horror Picture Show, but Rick couldn’t deny that wearing them, and being here like this made him feel different. 

He wasn’t bored anymore, that was for sure. 

“You’re bidding on a man who hasn’t ever fucked another man before.” 

Rick was glad he wasn’t facing the audience when he heard the literal gasp of shock. Rick’s lips twitched. 

“He’s interested in everything. He’ll pitch, or he’ll catch, and he will make you cry with how good it is. You can see that sweet bubble butt is just ready for your dick- but he hasn’t been stretched yet. You want to be the first man to slide your fingers inside, to open him up for your mouth, or a toy, or your cock?” 

Negan’s voice was gravelly enough that Rick couldn’t help but imagine it.  He swallowed when his cock twitched in the ridiculous pants. Almost as though Negan had some weird sixth sense, the man’s low voice ordered him to bend over, pushing slightly at his shoulder. 

Rick did and knew what he had to look like. His balls were on display, and when Rick spread his legs, arching his lower back, he knew that his asshole also had to be on display. 

Well, not that they could probably  _ see _ all that much given how far away the audience was, but it was still a visual. 

Part of the show. 

“Straighten up and turn around.”

Rick did on autopilot. It was mildly humiliating to be standing here under the lights, oiled up and ready with this cock hardening in front of God and everyone, and he had no idea what he actually looked like with the mesh holding his dick next to his body, but however he looked it was enough to set the small crowd into a frenzy that was palpable even on the makeshift stage. 

Negan held the crowd until they quieted. The feeling of all those eyes on him made Rick’s skin feel strange, tingly and too tight for his body. 

“Let us start the bidding at five hundred.” 

Rick had hotly contested that amount, certain that no one would pay that much for a rough fuck.  Now, he almost cringed as the silence grew. 

“Six hundred.” 

The voice was low, and Rick couldn’t help the way he turned towards it, even blindfolded.  He’d driven far enough from Kings County that Rick was pretty sure that no one he actually knew would be here, but that voice was familiar. 

Somehow. 

Other voices called out, the amount increasing bit by bit. Rick tuned it out for a few minutes, trying to place the voice, but nothing was coming to him. 

Hell, maybe he was just losing it. 

The amount steadily rose, bypassing flattering well into ridiculous. It was hard not to shift his weight from side to side as the bidding went on and on, disbelieving. Eventually it seemed to slow as the amount got too heavy for most to afford. Rick noticed the voices had tapered off to two men, although neither voice belonged to the man who started the bidding. He confessed to being a little disappointed. It had only been a few syllables, but the low, southern twang just did something for him. 

“I have $24,000, for the hot man in the gold mesh.” Negan sounded outright delighted. As well he should, since he got 30 percent.  “Going once. . . going twice. . ..”

“30.” 

Rick’s mouth dropped open, face flooding with color as he recognized the first voice again. Then, it was though the amount he’d been sold for  _ clicked _ , and Rick started to reach for the blindfold, utterly shocked. 

“Ah, ah, ah.  _ Not _ part of our agreement.” Negan stilled his wrist, and Rick remembered himself; remembered the role he was playing and clasped his hands behind his back again. He felt Negan step away from him.  “ Sold! I have $30,000 to the gentleman in the back. Sir, meet my assistant Lucille, in the office there, and we’ll make sure your purchase is waiting for you upstairs. Next, we have--”  
  


Rick bit his lip as he was helped off the stage, shivering a little once he was away from the bright lights. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bro, I don't even know.


	3. Chapter 3

[ x ](https://docs.google.com/drawings/d/1IVgkPCa_0UA7pwsRET_Tcu5NfYi2R4cKmKqdmJxoQwM/edit)

Rick knew he was sitting on a bed, only because of the softness. He supposed it could be a chair, or some sort of loveseat, but if so there wasn’t a back for him to rest against. It was extremely difficult to wait so quietly, but until he knew what his buyer wanted, Rick thought he would go ahead and feed into the subservient role he’d taken on. Usually, with his job, he was in charge. He called the shots; made the decisions. This was both disconcerting. . . and freeing. 

It felt like hours later when the door opened with a small squeak and shut with a click.  For some reason, Rick’s heart went crazy when he heard the lock turn. He’d made his wishes clear to Negan; what he would and wouldn’t do. Negan’s enterprise worked so well because of what he called the ‘no bullshit’ clause. At any point, whether money was planning to be exchanged or not, either party could tap out for any reason. Sewn into a little bracelet was a panic button, and if Rick ever felt uncomfortable, he was to use it immediately. It could easily be pushed even if he was tied up.

Not that Negan thought he would need it. And Rick had been adamant, he didn’t mind a man who was strong, but he refused to be hurt or hit in any way. It was weird to trust Negan with this of all things, but Rick felt that once the guy gave his word, there were no buts about it. 

“Stand up. Hold out your arms.” 

Rick jolted, having been lost in his own head for a minute. He stood, and did as he’d been directed. Being ordered to do something so simple made Rick’s heartrate increase. He found that he was perfectly fine giving over control to the man who owned him. 

“You said you were okay with fantasies. That true?” 

Rick found himself straining to listen to the voice in front of him. It wasn’t oddly deep or overly high-pitched. Rick could detect a fairly heavy accent, but that was pretty standard in the Atlanta area. The man spoke in an almost whisper, measuring out his words slowly as though he had no hurry or worries. 

Rick nodded. 

The voice seemed to come at him from all sides as its owner moved in a tight little circle around Rick. “Imma gonna go over in the closet. Once you hear the door shut, I want you to take off the blindfold, then come over to the closet door and kneel down. Bring a pillow or somethin’ so you don’t mess up your knees. Then, I want you to suck me.” 

Rick licked his lips, a little nervous. He nodded again. His arms were starting to tremble in this position. 

“Naw. You need to tell me that’s okay.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Rick heard a slow, shocked inhale. He could have sworn he felt something brush against his shoulder, but he couldn’t be sure. He wanted to ask how the hell he was supposed to suck him off if he was in the closet (and okay any talk of being in a closet was kind of hilarious given the circumstances), but Rick didn’t want to seem foolish. The man’s boots walked away from him, and Rick felt his arm muscles twitching.  Just when he thought he was going to have to give in to the pain, the man spoke. 

“Put your arms at your sides, and come here. When you hear me knock, take of your blindfold.” 

Rick heard the click of the door shutting, and fairly soon a simple knock. 

Rick snatched off the blindfold and looked around quickly before walking towards the closet. He did grab a pillow from the bed, but didn’t linger other than to realize that he had, in fact, been sitting on a padded bench, instead of a bed. Rick tossed the pillow to the floor and then froze, in the act of kneeling down. 

He’d heard about them of course. Hell, he’d watched enough porn featuring them to write a fuckin’ research paper. 

There was a glory hole in the closet. 

Rick raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t requested them, which meant that the other man must have had this fantasy. Rick shrugged, and dropped the mask to the floor by the pillow. The hole was more oval than circular, and was lined with what looked like silicone, which, given that god knew how many dicks had been shoved through it, Rick appreciated the easy cleanup. 

Rick couldn’t help the nervous way he licked his lips when the man shoved his dick through the glory hole. He didn’t make a sound. He was only half hard; well, Rick assumed he was only half hard.  He couldn’t quite tell, because the man wasn’t circumcised.

Rick moved so his hands were resting against the door, and moved his mouth in front of the hole, breathing. The man still didn’t say anything, and Rick realized that that was part of the fantasy. 

They could be anywhere. He could be anyone. 

Rick felt the dark swirl of heat in his stomach as he opened his mouth, still just breathing his humid breath on the skin. When he leaned forward, he could touch the very tip of the head of the man’s cock with his lips.

Rick could hear the shaky inhale, and strangely, that gave him confidence. It wasn’t like he’d never  _ had _ a blowjob after all. Sure, he hadn’t ever had a dick in his face, or in his mouth, but Rick was fucking adaptable, okay. 

What was important was that he was  _ definitely _ into cock. He’d been pretty sure; had watched enough porn and noticed enough men and all that, but he hadn’t been able to shake the niggling little doubt that maybe he wasn’t going to be able to do this. The whatif whatif what if that maybe, just maybe, he’d made a mistake. 

With the way his own dick jumped when Rick got his mouth around the head, he knew his doubts had been ridiculous. 

The man didn’t taste like anything. His skin was warm, and Rick wasn’t quite sure what to do; the foreskin wasn’t retracted or pushed back, or whatever the hell it was meant to do. Tentatively, Rick ran the tip of his tongue around the top of the man’s foreskin, and to Rick’s shock, the cock in his mouth grew larger. Rick shifted again, and wrapped his lips around what he could fit in his mouth, pulling off for a second to see if what he’d thought was true. He held the man’s softened cock in his mouth for a second, feeling it grow harder, until he had to let it out of his mouth so that he could breathe. 

The dusky head of the man’s cock peeked out of the foreskin, shiny and wet from Rick’s mouth. Rick bent forward and licked at the head, feeling strange. He felt a little like a porn star. The man made a low sound and pushed more of his cock through, and Rick was glad that the man was on the other side of the door, because he stared at the man’s cock for a good minute before he did anything. 

The cock in front of him was thick, with the head a dark pink color. Now the oval made sense, because Rick realized that he could see the man’s balls poking through the hole just a slight bit. The skin was a darker shade than the head. Rick’s eyes widened when he saw that there was a small tattoo about two inches down from the head. While he’d been softer it was hard to see but as the cock in front of him grew to full hardness, it was easy enough to see that there was tattooed what looked like a stylized version of angel wings. 

Rick had so many goddamn questions. 

Instead he shifted on the pillow and leaned forward, wrapping his hand around the base of the stranger’s cock. It was warm, and heavy in his hand. Even holding him in his fist, Rick found that he could still get his mouth around the head and did so, licking at the wetness he found there. It tasted salty, and a little acidic, but the flavor didn’t detract from the feeling of having to stretch his lips to get the man’s cock in his mouth. Feeling a little tentative, Rick moved his mouth down until his lips brushed the top finger of his fist. 

The man moaned at that, and Rick grinned around his mouthful of cock, pleased. 

After a few experimental kisses, trailing his tongue along the head, dipping into the lip of the man’s foreskin, he realized he could pull it back with his fist and suck on just the head. The first time he did that there was a thump against the closet door, and the man shifted so that more of his dick was through the oval. The second time, Rick heard a bitten off cry and sucked harder, moving his fist and bobbing his head a little.The third time, Rick learned that sucking a cock in real life was nothing like in a porn. 

Rick tried not to gag too obviously, but he had to pull off when his gag reflex fought him. Rick’s eyes narrowed as the man pulled away from him so quickly that Rick didn’t have time to try to stop him. Rick coughed, then wiped some of the drool off of his mouth. 

“Come back here,” Rick ordered, his voice a little scratchy from coughing. “I’m fine.” 

There was a heavy moment of silence, and Rick rolled his eyes. “I’m  _ fine _ . Not a lot of experience, remember? Now get back here so I can suck you off.” 

Rick heard the air the man sucked in and the cock slowly peeked back through the hole. He’d gone slightly softer, and Rick ignored the strange feeling he had in his gut at the realization that the man had been worried that he’d hurt Rick. 

Rick didn’t bother with his whole fist this time. He went back down immediately, slowly, feeding himself inch by slow inch until he got to the edge of what was comfortable. Rick sucked, flicking his tongue against the bottom of the cock in his mouth, and experimented with lightly scraping his teeth over the top. The man didn’t react too much when Rick’s teeth gently scraped against the shaft, but when they brushed against the spongy head, a large amount of precome dribbled out of the slit. Rick fumbled to lick it up, and spent a few minutes teasing the head of the man’s cock, realizing now how incredibly sensitive it was. 

When the man was fully hard, Rick started to suck him off again, bobbing his head in tiny increments. He licked. He laved. He sucked. Every time he pulled his mouth towards the base of the man’s cock, it jumped a little in reaction. Rick pulled off and kissed down as much of the shaft of the man’s cock as he could get to. The tease of his balls just peeking through the hole was driving Rick crazy. He wanted to lick them, to feel the weight of them in his mouth, but he supposed he would have to wait. The hard cock brushed against his jaw, almost into his hair as he kissed at what he could reach. The man obviously liked it, shifting his body so that some more was accessible, but there was only so much he could do. 

Rick pulled away to look at the scene in front of him. The cock was much darker now, rock hard and filled with heat. It was spit-shiny from Rick’s mouth, and curving up slightly enough that Rick knew if the door wasn’t in the way, it would point towards the man’s stomach.The tattoo of the angel wings fascinated him. Rick hadn’t really seen many people with tattoos; and certainly had never seen anyone with anything on their dicks. The man would have had to have had the tattoo done while he was hard for it to be so intricate, and Rick started to ask him, but then remembered himself and shut his mouth.  Rick took a deep breath and sucked the head into his mouth again. This time when he bobbed, he tried to open his throat more. The man sighed, then moaned, thrusting in tiny, tiny increments. The sharp taste of the man’s precome was familiar, and knowing that the man had wanted this out of all the things they could do made Rick want to do it right. He moved so that he was higher up on his knees, positioning his mouth so that the cock was even with him. It was a little awkward, and Rick imagined this would be easier if the man was stretched out on the bed, but he knew he could manage. Rick went down further, then a little further until he had to stop. He waited there, just breathing, and tried swallowing. 

So far, so good. 

Rick kept his throat as loose as he could, forcing himself to swallow repeatedly as he pushed his mouth down onto the thick cock in front of him, going and going until his lips brushed against the door. 

“Aw,  _ fuck, _ ” the man bit out, moaning. Since he hadn’t spoken since this started, the words went straight to Rick’s cock, making him realize for the first time just how hard and ready he was. The sound of the man’s hands scrambling on the other side of the door made Rick want to smirk, proud of himself. 

Rick flattened his palms on the wood of the closet, and breathed through his nose, gasping a little as he fought with his own reactions; his brain seemed to think this was a terrible idea, while everything else in his body lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree. 

He moved off the cock, swallowing and ignoring the precome and spit that dripped out of his mouth, and wanted to fist pump when he realized that there was a line of fluid attaching his mouth to the man’s cock. 

That was like. . . if there was a gold star for pornstar worthy blowjobs, the line of saliva just did it for him. 

“You wanna fuck my mouth? Does it feel good?” Rick wasn’t 100% sure that he could A) manage to get all that cock in his mouth again without passing out from lack of oxygen, and B) wasn’t sure he could handle getting past his gag reflex again without coughing, or choking, but he was willing to give it the old college try. Rick massaged the shaft, pumping his fist a little lazily, rubbing his finger over the sensitive head. 

“Yeah.” The low growl made Rick gape stupidly at the door. He wanted to slip a hand into the ridiculous booty shorts and palm his own cock to relieve some of the need for friction, but he also wanted to make this as good as he could, and his focus was only so good. 

The cock in front of him looked impossibly thicker, and was slick enough that Rick could tell he was close to coming. Which was good. Rick worked his jaw, feeling bizarrely like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz, then rolled his eyes at the inane thought. That was another thing porn didn’t adequately convey. His jaw was fucking  _ tired _ . 

Rick went through the whole process again, although this time, as though the man had just been waiting for permission to move, he started thrusting. He kept it gentle, and Rick sincerely appreciated that, because he certainly didn’t have to. Rick went down on him twice, then deep throated him a third time before the man really started fucking his mouth with smooth, shallow strokes. The closet door kept him from really fucking his throat like Rick wanted. 

Rick ignored his own cock, ignored his aching jaw, ignored his streaming eyes and mouth as he found a rhythm: bob, suck, swallow, suck, repeat. Rick only realized the man was about to come when he heard a garbled, warning shout from far off, and the man jerked his cock out of Rick’s throat. 

Rick fumbled a bit but managed to get his fist around it, aiming it for his mouth He just barely closed his eyes in time when he felt the wet spurts of thick come against his cheek, his lips, and one on the corner of his eye. 

Rick was kinda glad that the man couldn’t see him as he tentatively opened his other eye as he fisted the cock, watching the last dribbles of come bubble over his fingers and slide down his wrist. He didn’t know if he looked hot, or ridiculous. 

“Sh-shut your eyes and move away from the door. Don’t move otherwise. And uh. You gotta let go of my cock.” 

Oh. Yeah, that would probably help. Rick did as ordered and had just kneeled again when he heard the knock signifying that the door was opening, and heard the man walking through. 

Rick wanted to see him. 

He wanted to know if the man’s soft cock was just dangling out of his jeans. Was he wearing jeans? Khakis? A banana suit? Were there little marks from the glory hole’s rim against his skin? Was the man pleased? Smiling? Disappointed? 

“Look at ya.” 

Operating on instinct, Rick brought his own fingers up to his mouth and licked them clean. The taste of come wasn’t all that great, and wouldn’t rate even on the top ten of Rick’s favorite flavors, but it wasn’t the  _ worst _ thing he’d ever had in his mouth.Rick flinched when he felt the man get close, then felt foolish when he realized the man’s hands were cupping his face, carefully wiping the come from his eye. Rick’s mind went strangely blank as the man’s wet fingers brushed against his lips, and Rick opened his mouth. He swallowed, then sucked on the fingers in his mouth. The man allowed it for a few seconds but eventually pulled away and instead of cleaning him up like Rick expected, the man rubbed the sticky come that he hadn’t scooped into Rick’s mouth all into his face and neck. 

“Wait there a second.” 

Rick felt strangely bereft as the man walked away. He heard him rummaging in something then his booted footsteps as he walked forward.  He felt something heavier brush against his face, and Rick tried his best to keep still. 

“I’m gonna blindfold you, and you’re gonna stay blindfolded throughout the whole scene. That okay?”

Rick nodded, then remembered the man’s instance from before. “Yes.” His voice was low and scratchy, and Rick’s untouched cock gave a painful, needy throb. 

“Good. That’s good. . . wait. What do you want me to call you?”

“Rick,” Rick whispered. He hadn’t even thought of giving the man a fake name. 

“ _ Rick _ .” There was a beat of silence, then another. Then Rick felt the blindfold slip into place. It was soft, but heavy, and Rick guessed it was made of leather. The man tightened it into place then fitted a softer strip of cloth over that one, and tied it. It reminded Rick of a scarf or something, because the ends brushed against his neck and shoulders. 

“Stand up, Rick.” 

Rick did so, on shaky legs. 

“You said you were okay with toys. That still true?” 

Rick nodded, skin pricking with little tingles at the thought. 

“All right. Come here.” Rick took a step forward, and the man must have been closer than Rick had thought because their bodies brushed together. Rick couldn’t stifle a low gasp of shock in time, and he felt the man’s muscles tense as his hands came up to steady Rick by grabbing his biceps. To Rick’s shock, the man’s lips brushed against his, softly, then harder, and then like a switch ad been flipped, they were kissing hard, licking into each other’s mouths as though unable to stop themselves. 

The man’s lips were thin, and Rick shivered at the feel of stubble against his skin. 

He was a  _ great _ kisser. Rick only realized he was lightly rubbing himself against the man’s leg when he pulled away, stopping Rick’s instinctive move forward with a hand on his sternum. 

“Come on.” Rick felt the man’s fingers close around his wrist, and the small tug as he was pulled across the room. He felt his arms being raised, and strapped into something that kept his arms secured above his head. 

“Those too tight?” 

Rick shook his head, no. 

“Good.” The man brushed his lips against Rick’s,then kissed him hard until Rick’s lips felt swollen. The man pulled away. “You sucked me off so good, Rick. Now it’s time to take care of you.” 

  
  
  
  
**TBC!!**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Rick had watched enough porn in his life to realize where he was. He had the added bonus of check marking everything in the room that he was okay with using; and Negan had been very careful about making sure that there were no mistakes. Although he wished that he’d taken the time to glance around the room before sucking off the man who had bought him for the night, he also knew that the slight possibilities of the unknown made things more interesting.  Rick knew what he  _ could _ use, but not what the man  _ would _ use. 

The leather cuffs were connected to something above his head, and Rick could feel the bump of the bar against his knuckles. Rick heard the clank of chains and followed the pull as he was repositioned. Rick could feel something soft against his stomach, and gingerly he held tested his weight against it by grabbing the spreader bar and lifting his feet. 

“Yeah, it’s strong. And padded. You’re gonna be here awhile. I’m gonna do your feet, okay, Rick?”

Hearing his name from the man’s throat made Rick shiver, but he nodded. The light tap on his ass made him grin for a second, and he remembered. “Yes, sir.” 

The man shifted behind him, and Rick felt his legs being guided apart, so that his ass was tilted up against the bench he was spread out over. The cuff buckled against his leg, and Rick shivered again at feeling so vulnerable. 

He wiggled again when he realized that the ridiculous shorts he was wearing kept his cock trapped against his body, and his position kept his cock trapped against the padded bench. The friction made Rick groan, and involuntarily buck against the surface for the friction. 

“Hmm. That’s not gonna work at all.” 

Rick couldn’t see anything, but he felt the man move, and heard the clump of his boots as he walked away, leaving Rick’s wrists and one of his ankles cuffed in place. 

A muttered ‘aha!’ and Rick bit his lip, wondering what was going to happen. He quickly found out when the man inserted something against his hips and upper thighs. 

“These are called wedges, and they’ll keep you from rubbing off against anything. And I want you to be good for me, okay Rick?” 

Rick inhaled a long, shuddering breath. “Yes, sir.” He founded that he desperately wanted to be good for this stranger who had bought him. He’d never really gotten into anything like this before, but just hearing the approval in the man’s voice was doing something to him that he hadn’t expected. 

“You c’n call me Dix.”

Rick’s brow furrowed under the blindfold. “Dicks? As in ‘I wanna suck. . .’?”

The swat on his ass wasn’t particularly gentle. Nor was it particularly off-putting. “D-I-X, smartass.” But Rick could tell that the man was amused. 

“Dix. Not. . . sir?” 

“No, not sir. Not yet.” 

The ‘yet’ was intriguing, but Rick’s attention was diverted when the man quickly strapped him in place, arranging his body how he wanted. Rick could tell that his ass was. . . well. . .  _ presented _ , legs spread apart and cheeks spread on just this side of uncomfortable. His weight was braced against the bench, but the wedge or whatever it was that Dix had used did indeed keep Rick from bucking or rubbing against anything. He could hold onto the bar if he needed to, but his hands and feet weren’t going anywhere. 

“You okay?” 

“Yes, Dix.”  He was. He was more than okay. The way that the other man kept stopping to check in with Rick was nice though. It made this whole thing feel more like a connection than a transaction, although Rick knew that thinking like that would get him in trouble if he left it. 

“Okay. I’m just gonna move your panic button so you can hit press the cuff against it if you need to. But you can tell me to stop if I do anything you don’t want, or if you don’t like it.”

The man seemed strangely nervous, and Rick kept himself from reassuring him.“Yes, Dix,” he said instead. 

“Alright.” There was the sound of something heavy moving, an easily recognizable sound of the  small zip of a zipper being unzipped, and a muffled clink as several objects were placed on some kind of surface. Dix’s hands slid against Rick’s face and he flinched, surprised. He’d thought that the man was in front and a little to the left of him, but he was instead behind him. Dix didn’t remove his hands, instead checking the fit of the blindfolds, and Rick felt strangely bereft. 

“This is massage oil. I’m just warming it a little.” 

Rick raised his eyebrows. He heard a click and a whisper of sound, and Dix’s hands slid over the back of Rick’s neck. The man was silent as he touched Rick, but the press of his fingers and the rub of his palms felt amazing, releasing tension that Rick didn’t even know he had. The oil was warm, and soothing with the scent of sandalwood and something slightly darker; a spice Rick couldn’t identify. Whatever it was was nice. The hands moved over his shoulders, down his back, over his lower back, then skipped his ass to rub at his thighs, and the back of his knees and calves. 

Rick sighed, then moaned as the man took his time. From the filthiness of the blowjob, and the sordidness of both the gloryhole fantasy and the fact that Rick was bent over a bench cuffed to a spreader bar, the gentle touch was slightly disconcerting. It wasn’t bad, not in any way. But, it was making Rick feel. . . something. 

“You comfortable?”

“Mm.” Rick nodded, practically blissed out. When Dix’s hands dipped into a fresh coat of the oil and started massaging the muscles in his ass through the mesh of the shorts, Rick moaned. The touch was almost clinical at first- well. Rick assumed it was clinical. He’d never had his ass rubbed by anyone before- not even in his married life. Lori had treated his ass as sort of a no go zone. But slowly the touch changed. Rick felt his long, slick fingers between his spread cheeks, and Dix rubbed from the end of Rick’s tailbone all the way down. Instead of the mesh being in the way, it added to the strange sensation of skin and oil and friction. He felt the pad of Dix’s finger through the mesh against the rim of his hole, and down lower to slide over the shape of his balls. Dix did this a few times before continuing to make his way back up to Rick’s neck and shoulders, until Rick felt like all of his muscles had melted into a puddle.

When Dix ripped the shorts down the middle, Rick jerked with a sharp cry, shocked at the suddenness of it. 

Dix started again on Rick’s ass, rubbing the oil into his skin. When he felt the heat of Dix’s mouth against the tender, puckered skin of his hole, Rick felt the air in his lungs catch as he held his breath. 

Dix’s breath was hot as he licked at the rim, lightly teasing with the very tip of his tongue. Rick forced himself not to move, not to react. He’d never had anyone play with his ass like this before, and even though he’d had his mouth on this man’s cock not too long ago,  _ this _ seemed more intimate. 

Dix licked at him, using the oil and his fingers to open him up. Rick knew that he was clean, but when he felt Dix start to tongue-fuck him, Rick didn’t recognize the sounds he made. The breath he’d been holding left him in a gasping cry. It was incredible. He was so sensitive, and for all that his brain was screaming at him that this was filthy, and it was- Dix’s breath and tongue and the scrape of his teeth and beard were doing things to him Rick had barely even fantasized about- his body straining to get closer. 

The finger inside of him slid in smoothly and Rick shivered at how it felt. Anything around the rim of his asshole sent shivers up and down his spine, but feeling something  _ inside _ of him made Rick moan. 

Two fingers made him freeze a little- not because it hurt, but because the sensation was so unfamiliar. Rick had touched his own ass before while jerking off, but he’d never gotten anything inside of him like this. This, with the oil, and the feel of Dix’s hot mouth wandering over the globes of his ass through the material of what was left of the shorts, that made Rick start to swivel his hips, just slightly, moving with the carefully thrusting fingers. 

When Dix tapped something inside of him, Rick yelled. He couldn’t help it; the sound burst from him without his control. Dix abruptly moved away, and Rick turned his head, desperately trying to strain towards the other man. He shook his head, skin feeling oversensitized.

He’d never felt anything like that before. The quick touch had made Rick see spots behind his closed eyelids. 

“Is it--?” 

“No. Nono, it’s good, it’s fine. Please. Please, Dix, don’t stop.” 

“That’s okay. I’ll take care of you. I told you I would, Rick.” Rick felt the long fingers slide from his shoulders down his back, calming him. The hands pet up and down, slowly and Rick did calm down. 

He heard the snipping sound of scissors, and the ruined booty shorts fell away. Rick tried to spread his legs further, but the bar kept him immobile, open, and waiting for whatever Dix wanted to do to him. 

“Please--,” Rick begged, beyond caring. 

“Christ,” Dix muttered but started again, sliding one fingertip gently against his rim, then sliding in one finger, making room for himself. He avoided the little bump of nerves, instead focusing on stretching Rick’s ass to accommodate something much larger than his fingers. 

“Open your mouth, Rick. I want you to feel something.”  The fingers didn’t stop thrusting, but he didn’t touch Rick’s prostate, even when Rick shifted his body, trying to get him closer. 

Rick complied, his mouth falling open. 

“Don’t worry. I want you to tell me which one you want me to use on you. This one--” he slid it against Rick’s open lips, and held it so Rick could lap at it with his tongue. “--is smaller. It’s got two pieces and it’s curved just enough. It’s made to vibrate right on top of your prostate, and Rick- I bet it will make you come.” Rick licked at it, sucking it into his mouth like it was a cock. It was small, but hard, like it was made of stainless steel or some other metal material. It was cold but quickly warmed into the heat of Rick’s mouth. Dix drew it out slowly, and Rick heard the muffled clink as it was set down on the hard surface next to him. 

Dix’s fingers didn’t stop, and Rick shuddered when he realized that he had started to screw three fingers into his twitching, greedy hole, continuing to open him up. 

“And this? Mmm. It’s called a knot.” 

Something made of either rubber or silicone was pressed against his lips. This was much larger, much thicker at the base, and did indeed have a large knot at the bottom of it. Rick could feel it when he lapped at it, and thinking that Dix might like it, tried to suck the toy into his mouth. It was much less thick at the top, but once he got to that base, the thickness forced him to just let Dix hold it, his lips stretched wide. 

“Fuck, Rick.” Dix’s voice sounded scratchy, almost strangled as he slowly moved the toy out of Rick’s mouth. Rick made a low whimpering sound when Dix kissed him, and Rick quickly kissed back, desperate for the touch. 

When Dix moved away, Rick tried to chase his lips, but it was impossible. He felt strangely alone, and his shoulders sagged. 

To Rick’s shock, Rick felt himself manhandled so that he was stretched up again. He felt his own cock brush against his stomach and he groaned at the idea of what he must look like. He could feel how wet he was, and how wet he’d made the bench in front of him, but it wasn’t until Dix moved him and the cold air hit his wet skin that Rick realized just how much precome he’d leaked. 

He desperately wanted to come. 

“One more thing for you, Rick.” The three fingers slid out of his ass with a wet  _ squelch. _

Rick nodded, eager, only to freeze when he felt the cock ring fastened into place. There was something on it that pressed up under his balls, resting against his perineum, and Rick only had time to swallow before Dix turned on the vibrating ring. 

It’s was Rick’s turn to cuss, and he did so through gritted teeth as the slow pulse both stimulated his prostate from the outside and forced his cock not to come. He should have expected it, but when Dix slid sucked him into his mouth, Rick could only writhe in place, unable to move. He was begging something, screaming, pleading, but Dix sucked him, cleaning him off and pulling off with a pop.  The vibration slowed, only to pulse dully, enough to keep him twitching and gasping. 

When Dix slid his two fingers inside of him again, Rick bit his lip. This time, Dix played with his prostate, tapping it, rubbing it, rubbing around it. Rick felt his eyes tear up, and he heard himself moaning, but he couldn’t crest over that final wave to completion. 

Rick quickly felt too sensitive, and was going to say something when the fingers slid out of the low pulse of the vibrating cock ring didn’t waver, but compared to having his prostate played with, Rick barely noticed. It was like a low grade intensity that he felt, acknowledged, and could mostly ignore. 

Dix gave him some water, and Rick drank it, grateful for the soothing wetness against his dry throat. 

“You still good?” 

Rick nodded, still shivering from reaction. He’d known of course that having the little nub rubbed would make him feel everything more, but he hadn’t realized just how deeply he would feel it. Tears leaked out of his eyes, soaking the blindfold. 

“K--kiss..” 

Dix did, strangely gentle, like he knew exactly how overwhelmed Rick was feeling.  “I need the words, Rick. You’re being so good for me, but I need you to tell me you’re okay.” 

Hearing that Dix thought he was good amde Rick feel vulnerable in a way he hadn’t expected. He felt shy, and needy. Rick had to think for a second, making sure he wouldn’t blurt out something awkward. “I’m good. Yes, I want you to make me come. Will you--” his courage faltered for a second. “Will you fuck me, Dix?” 

He heard the other man gulp. His hands slid over Rick’s body, soothing the quivering, strained muscles. He avoided Rick’s cock, his balls, and his ass, but he rubbed everywhere else, his touch calming.  “Not yet. I want something else first. You think you can handle that other toy?” 

Rick had a brief second of clarity; realizing that with a cock the size of Dix’s, he needed the toys to be fully stretched. And it wasn’t like Dix wasn’t making him feel good. Rick found that he wanted to be good. He wanted to make this good for DIx, to give him everything he wanted. 

He wanted that more than anything.  “Ye-yes,” Rick stuttered, wanting. 

Dix took his time, but he felt the small toy slide into place. The smaller piece of the toy fit slightly higher up on Rick’s body. Rick had only a brief second to brace himself before Dix turned on the toy. 

The vibrations were much stronger. It might not have been directly against Rick’s prostate, but the whole area was sensitive enough from the cock ring that Rick felt himself shaking, mouth falling open in complete shock. 

He didn’t know if it felt good, or bad, overwhelming, or perfect to have his prostate stimulated from both the inside and the outside. He felt like he was coming, and Rick gasped, curling his sweaty hands around the bar. He couldn’t have said how long it went on. The toy in his ass had three different settings, and Dix would wait until he started to get used to the first before the deep throbbing of the second caused Rick to throw back his head, straining. The feeling of being just on the brink of orgasm but unable to go over left him incandescent with need. 

When the toy was removed, Rick felt like he was floating. He barely felt Dix’s fingers slide something thicker than the massage oil into his ass, but when the larger toy started to slide into him, Rick jerked, moaning.  He couldn’t seem to stop making noise. Dix was careful but inexorable, sliding the toy deeper and deeper into Rick’s ass until stopped. He felt Dix’s slick fingers feeling around the rim of his hole, and knew he had to be stretched wide. He  _ felt _ stretched wide. 

“Do it,” he gasped once he realized that Dix was once again waiting for permission. 

Dix did. 

There was a bit of pressure that was just on this side of painful and the toy slid inside of him, his hole almost seeming to flutter over the thicker part of the knot. Dix turned it, and the knot pressed directly on Rick’s prostate. Like this, there was no relief. It was humongous, stretching his ass so wide that Rick couldn’t do anything but shiver, locked in place. The vibrating cock ring sent deeper pulses against his perineum from the outside, and with the toy stimulating him from the inside, Rick could only shake in place, helpless to Dix’s will. 

But when Dix closed his  mouth back over him, sucking his cock once, twice, three times before releasing the cock ring, Rick  _ wailed _ , coming and coming like he’d never came before. His ass twitched and forced the toy to scrape over him from the inside, and Rick’s cock jerked in Dix’s mouth as Rick practically convulsed in the restraints. 

He might have screamed  _ yes _ or  _ Dix _ or something unintelligible as the deep pulses dragged him from completion, to over stimulation, to blessed, blessed relief. Rick had no idea. He was barely conscious. 

Rick didn’t feel Dix get to his feet, or the toy being removed, or even the restraints on his ankles being released. He had hit the end of his tolerance and only barely heard the shocked exclamation Dix made when Rick passed out, completely overwhelmed. 

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Uhhh whoops. I didn’t mean to leave this on such a terrible cliffhanger! RL isn’t as much of a clusterfuck, so I should be able to finish this soonish. TW for this chapter in the end notes
> 
>  
> 
> Maroon, I hope you're feeling better soon bb.

Rick woke up all at once, adrenaline coursing through his body. Instinctively, he froze, feeling bizarrely like prey just spied by a huge predator.  He processed the steady beat of a heart monitor; the sharp smell of antiseptic. A hospital? His mind whirled, trying to remember what had hap--

“Dix?” 

“Sorry, no. Here, can you sit up?” 

Rick would have known that voice anywhere. “Carol.”

“Right in one, big guy. Sit up.”  

Rick did, wincing when muscles he didn’t normally notice in his body pulled. He felt dizzy, and paused, huffing a breath. Carol raised an eyebrow, but set aside the blob she was knitting and stood up from the chair by his bedside to help him sit up. Almost as an afterthought, she reached over to the bedside table and snagged what look like a Gatorade, handing it to him with a direct look. Rick drank, stalling in inevitable flood of questions that he knew she was just barely keeping at bay. 

He had questions of his own, to be honest. Some of that must have been on his face because Carol crossed over to sit near him on the bed. She signed, staring for a second. Rick knew she was gathering her thoughts. It might have been a little cowardly, but he wasn’t quite ready to talk yet. It wasn’t that he was shy, exactly, but more that he didn’t know what to say. He drank the Gatorade. 

“Your. . . guy. . . he hit the panic button.”

Rick winced. A flood of memories hit him so clearly that Rick shivered, shifting under the sheets. He hadn’t expected that level of intensity. He hadn’t expected much of anything- a little kink, a few of his boundaries being pushed, but he had actually _passed out from coming_. 

Jesus Christ. Carol would probably send him a singing telegram, reminding him of it at every opportunity. 

Carol, who had been staring at Rick, reading the expressions on his face, frowned. “You’re.. Okay? He didn’t do anything. . . uh.” 

Rick blinked. “No! Nothing like that. In fact, he went out of his way to make sure that I knew what was going on, that I was okay with what he wanted to do, all that.” 

The soft knock on the hospital door made Rick’s heart flutter oddly in his chest. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for Rick’s state of mind, Negan walked in with the pleasant-faced Lucille behind him. 

“Ah! Rick! Glad to see you up and around. My lovely assistant has a few papers for you to sign, just a few follow ups from your experience. I’m pleased to inform you that the money has cleared, and I took the liberty of expressing to your buyer that you were fine, medically speaking.” 

“So I can’t tell him myself?” Rick blurted, ignoring the pitying looks on Carol and Lucille’s faces. 

Negan itched his eyebrow, breaking eye-contact. There was an awkward pause where Rick had about a thousand years to regret his big damn mouth. “Ah, no. Mr. Grimes. . . as you’re aware. Complete confidentiality, on both sides.” 

“He didn’t leave any kind of forwarding information? An email?” 

Negan looked even more awkward. “Er. While sometimes my clients do. . . contact each other after their time together, your buyer did. . . not. Leave anything like that.” 

Rick drank his Gatorade, trying to ignore the sweeping, drooping fall in his stomach. He drank slowly, nodding when Negan murmured something to his assistant, who left a manila folder with Carol. 

“The doctor wants to keep you overnight to make sure that your levels are acceptable, but I wish to assure you that everything has been paid for. All the information you need is in the folder. Have a..” Negan broke off. “I am sorry that I couldn’t help you further. Get some rest, okay?” 

Rick nodded, numb.

This was awful. 

While he was in the moment, it had been exciting, a little twisted, a little more than a healthy push out of his comfort zone. But Rick had fucked it up. He’d fainted, and Dix had panicked, and bolted, and now he’d never, ever see him again.  

Carol didn’t say anything, taking the empty bottle from his hand and stretching out beside Rick on the narrow hospital bed. Rick made it a few hours before he got dressed and left AMA.

Carol pretended to sleep, and Rick pretended that everything was just fine. 

  


* * *

 

Everything was not fine. 

Carol had given him some sites to read, and Rick hadn’t known much about something called ‘The Drop’, but he figured that he was experiencing some manner of that. Whatever it was, Rick felt completely out of sorts. For two days he was moodier than normal. He had refused to go to work, and when he did, Carol had told him that he was grumpier then a bear with a thorn in its paw when she had him bring her lunch. 

Rick hadn’t particularly wanted to go, and saw no reason to hide the fact. 

“Here’s your damn tempura.”

Something crashed. Carol had been talking to a man facing away from Rick and had poked her head out from the side of her desk with a cheery wave. The man had dropped the stapler he’d been holding, and it had managed to hit the keyboard and a few files on its way to the floor. The man crouched and picked up his mess while Carol hissed something under her breath and went to go meet Rick. 

“Delivered with such kindness and panache. Thanks, Rick.” 

Rick shut his eyes for a second. Under the sarcasm, he could detect a note of hurt, and that made him feel more of an asshole than anything. Carol poked in the bag, and Rick shifted forward a little. The polyester material of his shirt made him itch when he raised up his arms, pulling her into a hug. “Sorry,” he whispered kissing the top of her head. 

“Humph. You softy. Here. Daryl, stand up for goodness sakes.” 

Rick realized that the man had been crouching down out of eyesight, frozen while he’d given Carol her apology hug. He broke away from Carol and looked down. 

Rick’s throat went a little dry. 

The man was wearing the Kings County Emergency Services uniform, a polo and khakis. He stood up so quickly that his knees cracked. Rick had to force himself to look away from the blue eyes and distinct cheekbones, lest he babble something stupid. 

Carol’s lips twisted in a tiny smile. “Daryl, meet Rick. Rick, this is Daryl Di--”

The beep of an incoming call caused Carol to turn away immediately, her entire demeanor changing. “911, what’s your emergency?” Carol nodded and typed a few things into her keyboard. She snapped her fingers and pointed at Rick, who was already shifting into professional mode. “Ma’am, the police are on their way. Are you in danger now?” Carol nodded, making eye contact with Rick. 

“Shit.” He turned and jogged to his cruiser, knowing that the call would come in there first. It wasn’t until he’d shut the door of his cruiser that he realized he hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye to Carol’s coworker. 

Goddamn, he was all kinds of rude today. Rick made a mental note to stop back by after the call. Maybe he’d stop for apology donuts or something.  His radio whistled and Susan, their dispatch, relayed the message: Robbery in progress on South Wacker and Vine. Al’s Spirits and Bar. 

Rick flipped the switch, sirens wailing. His hands curled on the wheel as he pulled away, glad for the distraction from his fucked up personal life. 

  
  
  


 

_**TBC in the final chapter!** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rick, who has never had any sort of intense power exchange sex experiences emotional loss over the abrupt way his last moments with "Dix" ended.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. I upped the chapter count (otherwise this thing would have gone on forever) and I posted on my phone, so if the format is wonky I apologize. ❤️

“911, What’s your Emergency?” 

 Rick knew that he was supposed to say something. He’d been trained to keep a level head, to respond no matter what, but the man’s words seemed to come from very far off.  

“Th’s.” No he couldn’t talk without vomiting. The blow to his head had been better than a shotgun blast to the face, but Rick knew he wasn’t acting right. 

“Hello? 911. Please state the nature of your Emergency.”

Rick figured he was pretty goddamn concussed, because that voice? That was the voice he’d been dreaming about for what felt like months. 

“Dix?” 

There was a pause, and the sound of furiously tapping keys. “Sir-” and the voice wobbled a little, so Rick frowned, all at once not sure he wasn’t completely imagining that voice- “Sir, I am tracing your call. Can you give me your name?”

“Rick,” Rick whispered. He bit the inside of his jaw sharply, using the pain to focus. “Rick Grimes. On a 10-17. Vine. . . Vine and. . .” The _pop!pop_! of a handgun caused Rick to duck, instinctively making himself as small a target as possible. His phone fell to the pavement with a clatter, and whatever the operator said was lost in the surge of adrenaline that gave Rick some much-needed clarity. 

The perp had broken into the liquor store, and had shot towards Michonne’s patrol car. Michonne was pinned, but Rick could see that she was unharmed. For some reason, the look on her face made Rick fear more for the perp’s life, than hers. Michonne was beyond competent, and as the senior-most deputy under Rick, had this under control.  Still, the perp had a hostage, and the woman was fighting like a wildcat, clawing and scratching for all she was worth. 

Rick saw the shot. He didn’t think about his concussion, or the voice squawking on the dropped phone, or Michonne’s wide eyes as she realized half a second before Rick did what he was going to do. 

The perp needed to either shift his hold on the woman, or his hold on the gun to get in his car. From behind the dumpster, Rick was practically invisible, although his cruiser looked like swiss cheese- a bit more Rambo than the good people of Kings County were used to. If the man still had ammo for the shotgun, this wouldn’t have worked. 

Before Rick could flinch, he lined up, and squeezed the trigger. 

“Ahhh! Shit!!’ 

It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t honorable. But, as diversions go, it worked just fine. Taking a .357 in his ass was gonna leave one helluva scar. Had he been holding the woman directly in front of him, Rick wouldn’t have chanced it; the bullet could have gone through the perp into her. 

The man lurched to the side, and the woman, seeing her chance, kicked him square in the balls before running behind Michonne’s cruiser. 

Rick approached, cautiously, _agonizingly_ aware that the perp hadn’t dropped his weapon. 

“Drop your Weapon! Hands up!” Michonne’s clear voice rang out in the sudden quiet street corner, and Rick lurched, feeling like everything was swimming.  He saw the man turn towards Michonne, saw him start to raise the gun, and his training came back. 

His shot hit a fraction before Michonne’s, both textbook shots to the shoulder to incapacitate and disarm their opponents. 

Rick heard Michonne screaming something, saw her cuffing the man’s wrist to his bumper, but before Rick could say anything else, he was enveloped in cool, blessed, blankness.

******

“Listen, motherfucker. If you keep _passing out on me_ I’m gonna find a new best friend!” 

Rick blinked awake. His eyes felt incredibly crusty, and he winced at the furious sound of Carol’s voice. The bright lights and incessant beeping gave him a sense of place. The flash of a knitting needles in the fluorescent lights made him vaguely terrified.

Wonderful. He was back in the hospital. Only this time, he didn’t have his own room. He was shoved into one of the ER cubicles, with Carol, Michonne, two nurses, a doctor, and what felt like half the cast extras of Greys Anatomy staring at him with their Serious Medical Faces on. 

Rick blinked.

Shit. Interns. Carol probably arranged for them to be here to witness his utter shaming. 

Rick blinked again and Carol shoved a cup of water in his hand so aggressively, that half of it slopped down the front of his hospital gown. 

Rick frowned at her, a little pathetically. 

She didn’t soften one iota. “Waltzing into the fucking store _by yourself!_ Not even waiting for _backup_ ,” she hissed, furious.  Michonne brushed her long fingers against the back of Carol’s neck and whispered something in her ear. Rick felt like a complete asshole when he saw Carol’s eyes flood with tears and with an angry sniff she turned and charged through the curtained partition.

“She’ll cool down, but for the record, you’re a giant asshole.” Michonne leaned over and got him a new cup of water, and Rick nodded gingerly, knowing better than to argue. 

“Here. Your bag was with you, and they recovered your phone, although you cracked it to shit when you dropped it on the asphalt.”

“The girl?” 

Michonne rolled her eyes. “She’s fine. Name’s Tara Chambler.  Turns out she’s going through the academy.” 

Well, that explained the piss and vinegar. She’d knocked the perp’s balls into his throat, for all the world looking more pissed off that he’d dared to manhandle her than scared for her life at the hands of a dangerous criminal.  

“She’s also my wife. Dr. Denise Cloyd.” The doctor smiled slightly at the both of them before shining a light directly into Rick’s eyes, which was moderately unpleasant, but not nearly as unpleasant as when she manipulated the giant knot on his head. “Thank you for saving her life, Officer Grimes.” 

Rick shrugged one shoulder. “She saved her own life. I just shot him in the ass.” 

One of the interns snorted a soft laugh and quickly scribbled something on his clipboard. The doctor raised one eyebrow at them and turned away from Rick. “All right. Now go over and interview the criminal. One shot to the left asscheek, by a--” She looked at Rick. 

“Colt Python .357.” 

“Colt Python .357. Two shots to the right shoulder, one from large caliber bullet, and one slightly smaller. One massive kick to the testicles, possible rupture. Off you pop. Shoo!” 

The mass of mini-doctors moved off, and Rick breathed a little easier with just Michonne, the nurse, and Dr. Cloyd in the small area.  

“You have a bit of a concussion from being pistol whipped. I’m gonna release you in a bit, but you’ll need someone to look after you, make sure you’re not babbling in tongues, that sort of thing. She looked at Michonne, who shrugged back in answer. “I have patrol, but Carol is making arrangements for Officer Asshole here.”

“That’s. . . insubordination.” Rick managed to croak, mostly kidding. 

Michonne’s eyes narrowed in a way that was frankly frightening enough that Rick’s own balls practically shriveled for their own safety. She reached over and flicked the top of his ear, near the bump on his head. “Put it in my file, _sir_.”  With a swish of her braids, she went to find her girlfriend and (Rick devoutly hoped) figure out his discharge paperwork. 

Dr. Cloyd sucked the tip of her pen thoughtfully. “You have very interesting friends. They care about you a lot. They were pretty fired up before we woke you up. And, forgive me for this, but some of your previous hospital information was in that folder, so I took the liberty of perusing it.” Her gaze became very direct. “Anything you need to report?” 

Rick blinked at her, then turned bright red when he realized what she must have read. In her line of work, she probably saw those kind of injuries all the time, under much, much less pleasant circumstances.  “Uh. No. Purely consensual. Thanks, though.” 

One eyebrow rose, and she stared at him, as though gauging his trustworthiness. Eventually she nodded and handed him back the paperwork, still neatly arranged in the folder Lucille had made for Negan to give to him. Shit. At this rate, he’d need to get a goddamn binder to hold all his medical paperwork. 

Rick was feeling pretty awful by now, and heartily wished for some goddamn advil or something. The nurse tapped him on the shoulder and handed him two white pills. “For the pain to your head. It won’t dull it completely, but it should allow you to rest until you’re discharged.”

Rick tried another smile and lay back on the bed, head throbbing. He lost time for awhile, nurses, and once Michonne, waking him up every couple of hours. The pain waxed and waned, and Rick had the feeling of hours passing before a _very_ grumpy Carol pulled on his leg hair to wake him up (very _very_ grumpy- that shit _hurt_!). “Here’s some scrubbs to cover your stupid ass. We’re leaving in an hour.”

Rick swallowed. “Carol--” 

She held up one hand. “Nuh-huh. We’ll talk later.” She disappeared through the curtain, and Rick struggled to stand, putting the scrubs on over his naked ass, and feeling immeasurably better.  

A man could face a lot without his butt cheeks flapping in the wind.

With nothing else to do, Rick started flipping through the folder, scanning the paperwork more out of boredom than anything else. 

He flipped to the payment sheet, wincing at the amount from when he’d been with Dix. Negan had truly pulled some sort of--

Hold on.

Hold the fuck _on._

Rick blinked down at the name in the little payment box. It seemed to float up at him, making him feel hot, then cold, then almost sick. 

_Daryl Dixon._

_Carol’s lips twisted in a tiny smile. “Daryl, meet Rick. Rick, this is Daryl Di--”_

 

 **“FUCK** **_ME_ ** **!”**

 


	7. Chapter 7

**TW: sense deprivation, somnophilia, consent given after the person wakes up.**

  
  
  


Okay so. 

Rick knew he was occasionally. . . impulsive. 

Yet, in all his years of life, this fact had never been more clear than when he found himself getting out of an Uber, in front of Daryl Dixon’s house, wearing a pair of scrub bottoms and an ugly-ass hospital gown, clutching his cracked phone in his hand until some of the glass flaked off. 

He had no idea if anyone was home. Hell, for all he knew Dix had three kids and a wife, and a brass band would meet him when he rang the doorbell. 

The bark of a dog  startled Rick enough that he froze, swaying a little on his bare feet. The dog sounded ferocious, but as Rick crouched down to offer it his wrist to smell, the dog flopped over, demanding belly rubs, tongue lolling out in a huge doggy smile. 

Rick complied. The dog’s barks quickly turned to pants and whines of pure bliss as Rick rubbed his tummy. 

“Dog! What the he--.” 

Rick happened to be looking towards the side of a house when he saw it- otherwise he would have been pretty certain that he was hallucinating. 

Daryl Dixon, no. . ..  _ Dix _ . . . had come jogging through his backyard gate, licking what appeared to be barbeque sauce off the back of his hand. When he saw Rick he froze, his face going very, carefully blank. 

The dog, whose name was, apparently, ‘Dog’, nipped at Rick’s hand as though to gently remind him that Rick had a job to do.  Rick complied, still feeling as though his world had flipped up on its end. 

“Rick?” 

“Dix.” 

Rick stood up, cheeks pinkening when he remembered what he was wearing.  As far as Rick knew, there was no precedent for this. Miss Manners had never covered ‘meeting the man who had paid thousands of dollars and fucked you stupid until you’d passed out’ in her  _ Guide of Excruciatingly Correct Behavior _ . 

“What are you---” Dix coughed, looking flustered. “Why are you here?” 

Rick felt like he’d been kicked in the balls. The contents of his stomach bubbled like a volcano, ready to spew.. From the second he’d figured out that Carol’s coworker Daryl Dixon and his Dix were the same person, he had kept himself from the ‘what if’ of what happened next. He’d briefly imagined them tangling together, maybe kissing, maybe going to his knees in front of the man who’d absolutely wrecked him, but Rick hadn’t really ever contemplated the possibility that Dix . . . didn’t  _ want  _ him. 

But of course he didn’t.  He’d paid his money, and he’d gotten his. . . well, Dix hadn’t gotten fucked, but they’d been more intimate together (for all that Rick had been blindfolded for the entire thing) than Rick had ever been with anyone, including his ex wife. Rick supposed that the trouble and embarrassment of having someone faint on---

Oh fuck. 

Oh  _ fuck _ . 

Rick wasn’t Dixon’s boss, but he---  

Rick swallowed hard, feeling overly emotional as he shut that thought down in its tracks, absurd tears pricking at his eyelids. He swallowed again. “Uh. I can. I saw a 7-Eleven a few blocks back, I can just call back my Uber. . .” Rick turned and started to walk back the way he’d come, managing three or four humiliated steps down the sidewalk before he felt Dix’s hand on his bicep, halting him. 

“ _ No _ . Shit, man. That’s not.” Dix huffed out a breath. “Just. . . come inside, okay?” 

Rick actually hesitated, feeling heinously awkward. Well, at least that answered one niggling question. He wasn’t into humiliation for humiliation’s sake.

Dix. . . no.  _ Daryl _ , and he needed to keep that shit straight in his fucked up head, ran a hand through his hair. It was brown, and a little long, bangs hiding one eye in a way that Rick told himself wasn’t absolutely fucking sexy as hell. “I’m sorry. It. . . Look, you look like you’re halfway to falling on your ass. Come on inside, Rick.” He jerked his head, moving his bangs so that his blue eyes met Rick’s. The shade of blue reminded Rick of something ethereal, an ocean that stretched on forever under a sharp, bright blue sky right after the storm clouds cleared. His heart did a strange flip in his chest, and he was nodding before he quite realized that he was doing it. 

Daryl whistled for Dog, and the three of them made a weird sort of processional through the back gate, past a small charcoal grill with a cooler of beer sitting on the small, concrete porch. There was only one chair, but Daryl simply slid open the sliding glass door and held out his arm for Rick to proceed him inside. 

Daryl paused at the kitchen counter and picked up his phone. He tapped a few things and set it back down. Rick found himself taking little peeks up at him from where he had folded himself on a couch. 

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well.” 

Rick shivered at the sound of his scratchy, low voice. He peeked up again to catch Daryl biting his lip. Rick realized he was staring and looked down at his feet. This was ridiculous. He felt like he had just asked Lori Cunningham to the Senior prom; with that there had been an awkward pause while she looked at Shane (which really, given everything that happened should have been a huge fucking clue.) From the very depths of something resembling his courage, he managed to find some words. He took in a deep breath, said a little prayer, and decided to go ahead and say what was on his mind. 

“Look, I just wanted to tell you thank you--”

“I’ve never in my life been so fucking scared---”

They both stared at each other, smiling a little at the awkward way they both blurted over the other at the same time. 

“No, you go first.” Daryl crossed his legs and leaned against his counter. 

Rick nodded, gave himself a pep talk, and began:

“I just wanted to thank you. For everything. For that night- and I’m sorry. I know it’s supposed to be anonymous, but your name was on the hospital paperwork and I just. I just had to meet you. Again, I mean.”

Daryl didn’t say anything. 

Rick swallowed hard. “So, uh, I understand if you want me to give back the money? Since I violated pretty much everything. I fainted, and then basically stalked you, and this is really the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had.”

Daryl was shaking his head before Rick even stopped speaking. “No. No, Rick. You don’t owe me anything, and it wasn’t like I didn’t know who you were.” I mean,” he huffed a deep breath. “I’ve been. . . I’ve wanted to.” 

“Pay $30,000 for a blowjob from an old guy?” 

Daryl snorted, then shrugged. “Naw. I just wanted to.” He sighed then stared at a point just over Rick’s left shoulder. Rick couldn’t help the small feeling of. . . excitement when he realized that Daryl was blushing tomato red. 

“I’ve wanted you for a long, long time. The money? It ain’t nothin. I came into a bit of money when my brother died, and since he didn’t exactly acquire it legally- I mean, I didn’t ask him or anything but it’s a fair enough guess- I paid off my mom’s trailer, and my mortgage, and donated a bit to some pet rescues, but like the rest Carol said she had this crazy idea of a way to get rid of the money and hook up with you at the same time---” 

Daryl’s nervous babble stopped when he realized that Rick had reached over to touch his arm. 

“You wanted me?”

Daryl nodded.

“And Carol. . . she. . . the auction was her idea?” 

Daryl nodded again.

“And do you still want. . . me? 

Daryl nodded emphatically. 

Rick grinned. 

Daryl grinned.

Dog, who noticed that the two goofy humans were busy grinning at each other instead of giving him tummy rubs, barked twice. 

“You just got out of the hospital. Concussion?” 

Rick winced and nodded.  

Daryl looked at his phone again, his mouth quirking as he read the message. He nodded once, to himself and when he looked up, his gaze was so intense that Rick shivered. “Okay. So. . . I want you to take a shower. Make sure you clean everything on your body. Imma come in there and watch to make sure you don’t fall on your ass. Then, we’re gonna go lay down, because I don’t know about you, but after taking your call and hearing that you’d almost been shot. . . well let’s just say that a bed looks really good. Carol will kill me if I don’t wake you up every two hours or whatever you’re meant to do, so we can do that.” Daryl’s tone faltered, and for a moment he looked unsure. “Uh. Is that all right?” 

Rick felt that the emotional rollercoaster of a day had somehow turned into a checklist of everything he’d ever wanted. He waited a moment, licking his lips a little nervously. As much as he’d love to jump into bed with Daryl, the other man was right. They didn’t have to rush anything.

Rick reached up to brush back Daryl’s hair. In the time it had taken him to think, Daryl had sort of drawn into himself, almost like he was waiting for rejection. Rick took a step back and looked right into Daryl’s blue gaze when he answered. 

“Yes,  _ sir _ .” 

*****

Rick didn’t know what time it was. For a moment, he thought that he was still wearing the blindfold. He froze for a second, heartrate increasing for a moment before his brain caught up to his momentary confusion. He heard the low hum of the air conditioning, heard his blood moving in his ears, but he couldn’t discern anything else.  Daryl’s warm body heat had been next to him for the past few days. Most had been a blur, a mix of sleeping, waking, eating, trying to watch something on Daryl’s ipad, but not having the spoons to pay attention, and Daryl gently sending him back to bed. 

Two days ago, he’d gone in for a check-up with Dr. Cloyd, who’d pronounced him “pretty damn good” and had given him leave to go back to work on Monday. That was a Tuesday, so Rick knew he had several days to fill. 

The low  _ zzzzt! _ of a zipper put Rick back in this moment, causing him to shiver. While he still couldn’t see, now that he’d woken up a little he was able to hear perfectly well. His cock was rock hard, and drooling precome from where it lay on his stomach, curved towards his belly button. The coolness of the air made him shiver again, and Rick jerked with a bitten off moan when he felt Daryl’s mouth tighten around the head. 

This is what had woken him up. 

Muscle memory had Rick remembering the feel of the heat of Daryl’s mouth sliding over the thick glans, the light suction and scrape of teeth shocking his body from sleep to over stimulation almost instantly. 

Daryl pulled off, and the low rasp of his voice made Rick bite his lip. “I read your list of fantasies pretty goddamn carefully. I know this was one of them, being woken up like this. But, if you want me to stop just say so.”

Rick shook his head “no” so hard he saw little white lights behind his eyelids. 

Daryl popped up. There was a small fumbling sound, and the bedside lamp came on its dimmest setting.“Hey. Concussion, remember? The doc said you’re good to go, but let’s not push it.” One eyebrow hiked up into his bangs, and Rick had to blink at him for a second, almost dizzy from the abrupt switch from ‘Dix’ to ‘Daryl’. 

Rick wasn’t sure what expression was on his face-- something between ‘yeah, fair enough’ and ‘go back to the sucking me off please thanks bye,’ but Daryl just smirked and went back to work.  Rick’s eyelids fluttered shut as he lost himself in the sensation of Daryl giving him all of his considerable attention. 

“You gonna let me rim you?”

Rick shivered, and almost sprained something with how quickly he turned over. The low light made it impossible to hide, and Rick didn’t much want to. He felt Daryl slide his boxers down over his ass, and helped him get them off his legs. He moved where Daryl wanted him, and couldn’t help but turn his head to see what Daryl was doing when there was no more touching or lowly-spoken directions. 

Daryl was balanced on the edge of the end of the bed, and as Rick watched he moved from kneeling to sitting back a little on his heels. His hand was wrapped around his cock, and Rick licked his lips at the visual. Daryl’s dick was red, almost purple at the end, and as he lazily stroked himself, Rick could see that the other man’s eyes were half-shut in pleasure, just from looking at Rick’s ass. 

Feeling nervous enough to faint, and brave enough to remember the obscene amount of porn he’d perused for . . . science. . . Rick bent forward a little so his shoulders were against Daryl’s headboard and reached back, spreading his ass open with his hands. 

Daryl gulped. 

“I want you to blindfold me again, and I want you to do anything you want to me. Fuck me, use some more toys, play with me, eat me out, fuck me, whatever you want.”

“You said ‘fuck me’ twice,” Daryl said, low. 

Rick waited a beat, then another, watching as Daryl’s cock filled with so much blood that it stood up straight, the head leaving blotches of precome against his belly button. He met Daryl’s eyes, and let himself really feel how much he wanted Daryl; how much he wanted to be fucked. He’d heard people say that they felt empty inside, and Rick had always thought that sounded a little dramatic, like some sort of second-rate erotic fanfiction or something, but it was true. He wanted Daryl to fuck him.

Bad.

“ _ Please _ , sir.” 

Daryl closed his eyes, cheeks turning a little pink with emotion. “Close your eyes. No blindfold; you just keep your eyes shut until I tell you otherwise.”

Rick complied.  He felt the bed move as Daryl knee walked towards him, then the mattress shift as he made himself comfortable. Part of him thought that Daryl would sort of lead up to it, maybe kiss him lightly around his asshole or bite his asscheek, or something.  He gasped when Daryl went for it, pushing his stubbled jaw between the cheeks of Rick’s ass and licking at the puckered hole. He sucked on his balls, and the skin between, and licked at him with a mix of kitten licks and sweeping, swirling movements. 

Daryl made him sloppy with his mouth. He licked, he nibbled, he fucked him with his tongue until Rick was shaking and desperate, nails clawing into his own skin as he held himself open. He tried to rub his cock against the headboard for a little friction, but Daryl smacked his ass cheek and threatened to stop, and Rick could only lay there and shiver, moaning, and then begging and then forgetting everything but Daryl’s name. 

When Daryl pulled off, Rick was shaking. When Daryl roughly manhandled him further up so that he was gripping the headboard, on his knees with his legs spread, Rick bit his lip. But, when Daryl slowly started to finger him, Rick was pretty sure he saw the face of Jesus. 

First his thumb, then two fingers when Daryl met little resistance, scissoring and widening them until Rick’s hole loosened up. A third finger made Rick start rocking back onto Daryl’s hand, especially when Daryl hit something inside of him that made Rick‘s dick jerk, thick streams of precome sliding out of the slit and onto the pillow in front of him. 

But when he felt the spongy head of Daryl’s nudging at his hole, Rick couldn’t help himself any further. He turned his head, almost straining his neck and kissed Daryl as hard as he could, desperate to show him how much he wanted him. 

Daryl seemed surprised, but kissed him back just as deeply. Rick managed to move without knocking anyone off the bed or removing his tongue from Daryl’s mouth for longer than it took to breathe, pushing Daryl around and onto his back so that the other man was sitting with his legs stretched out on the mattress, back against the headboard. 

“Aw fuck, you’re gonna kill me, man.” 

Rick liked the sound of that. He slung one leg over Daryl’s and gripped Daryl’s cock with his fingers. He wanted to suck on him again, but he wanted to be fucked more, so he made a mental note to wait until next time.  It was a little awkward, but Rick maneuvered himself, lining up Daryl’s cock with his hole and slowly working him inside. 

It took a lot of patience, a lot of swearing, and a fuck lot of lube, but when Daryl bottomed out inside Rick, they just stared at each other, breathing each other’s air. Daryl’s hands were clenching the covers tightly enough to pull the sheets out from under the mattress, and Rick would have admired the man’s restraint, but most of his brain was taken up with being a shivering, sweaty mess. 

The stretch of an unfamiliar muscle didn’t hurt, but even with all the prep, Rick could feel every thick inch of him. 

Finally though, Rick tentatively moved. Nothing exploded, so he tried it again. And again. Ang again, until he was almost bouncing on Daryl’s cock, Daryl’s hands guiding him with a deathgrip on Rick’s hips. Daryl fucked up into him when Rick circled his hips, screwing down onto the thick heat spearing him open. 

Rick’s cock bobbed, with each bounce drooling precome.

When Daryl started jerking him off, Rick made a sound that sounded way too much like a wail for his future embarrassment, and he went off like a rocket, jerking in place as he came and came and came hard enough to see spots behind his eyelids.  When he opened his eyes, Daryl was staring at him like he’d hung the moon, and at some unspoken signal, Daryl flipped him over and started really fucking into his loose, slick hole, muttering “fuck. . . fuck. . ..  _ fuck _ ” under his breath as he did just that. 

Rick was almost too sensitive, but he wanted to watch Daryl go.  He felt a bit stupid and needy as he ran his hands over the broad plains of Daryl’s chest, but the added pressure seemed to be just what Daryl needed. With one more thrust, he threw his head back and came with a gasp, then collapsed on top of Rick.

It took the poor guy a second to get his shit together, but Rick didn’t mind much, more than pleased to feel all of Daryl against all of him. 

Daryl’s kiss was a little sex-stupid, but Rick appreciated the gesture. Daryl slowly licking off his cock and gently sucking him off was also appreciated, as was the way Daryl played with his loose, sloppy hole, milking his prostate until Rick was almost sobbing, coming so hard that he couldn’t do much but fall asleep right afterwards. 

****

The text woke him, much. . .  _ much _ later.  

Carol: I got me 30,000 reasons that I am the best friend ever. Text me when you're done 🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆💧💧💧💧

Rick snorted. When she was right, she was right. He shook his head and burrowed back into Daryl’s warm body, falling asleep with a ridiculous grin on his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END! 
> 
> Whew! That was fun. Silly, but fun. Let me know what you thought, and if you have other prompts, leave 'em in the comments. 💗💗💗


End file.
